The second book of the works of Mr. Francis Rabelais, Doctor in Physick treating of the heroick deeds and sayings of the good Pantagruel. Written originally in the French tongue, and now faithfully translated into English. By S.T.U.C.

CHAP. III. Of the grief wherewith Gargantua was mo∣ved at the decease of his wife Badebec. (Book 3)

WHen Pantagruel was borne, there was none more astonished and perplexed then was his father Gargantua; for of the one side, seeing his wife Badebec dead, and on the other side his sonne Pantagruel born, so faire and so great, he knew not what to say nor what to do: and the doubt that troubled his braine, was to know whether he should cry for the death of his wife, or laugh for the joy of his sonne: he was hinc indè choaked with sophistical arguments, for he framed them very well in modo & figura, but he could not resolve them, remaining pestered and entangled by this means, like a mouse catch't in a trap, or kite snared in a ginne: Shall I weep (said he?) Yes, for why? my so good wife is dead, who was the most this, the most that, that ever was in the world: never shall I see her, never shall I recover such another, it is unto me an inestimable losse! O my

good God, what had I done that thou should∣est thus punish me? why didst thou not take me away before her? seeing for me to live without her is but to languish. Ah Badebec, Badebec, my minion, my dear heart, my su∣gar, my sweeting, my honey, my little C. . . (yet it had in circumference full six acres, three rods, five poles, foure yards, two foot, one inche and a half of good woodland measure) my tender peggie, my Codpiece darling, my bob and hit, my slipshoe-lovie, never shall I see thee! Ah, poor Pantagruel, thou hast lost thy good mother, thy sweet nurse, thy well-beloved Lady! O false death, how injurious and despightful hast thou been to me? how malicious and outragious have I found thee? in taking her from me, my well∣beloved wife, to whom immortality did of right belong. With these words he did cry like a Cow, but on a sudden fell a laughing like a Calfe, when Pantagruel came into his minde: Ha, my little sonne, (said he) my childilollie, fedlifondie, dandlichuckie, my ballockie, my pretty rogue; O how jollie thou art, and how much am I bound to my gracious God, that hath been pleased to be∣stow on me a sonne, so faire, so spriteful, so lively, so smiling, so pleasant, and so gentle. Ho, ho, ho, ho, how glad I am? Let us drink, ho; and put away melancholy: bring of the best; rense the glasses, lay the cloth,

drive out these dogs, blow this fire, light candles, shut that door there, cut this bread in sippers for brewis, send away these poore folks in giving them what they ask, hold my gown, I will strip my self into my doublet, (én cuerpo) to make the Gossips merry, and keep them company.

As he spake this, he heard the Letanies and the memento's of the Priests that carried his wife to be buried, upon which he left the good purpose he was in, and was suddenly ravished another way, saying, Lord God, must I again contrist my self? this grieves me; I am no longer young, I grow old, the weather is dangerous; I may perhaps take an ague, then shall I be foiled, if not quite un∣done; by the faith of a Gentleman, it were better to cry lesse, and drink more.

My wife is dead, well, by G- (da jurandi) I shall not raise her again by my crying: she is well, she is in Paradise at least, if she be no higher: she prayeth to God for us, she is hap∣py, she is above the sense of our miseries, nor can our calamities reach her: what though she be dead, must not we also die? the same debt which she hath paid, hangs over our heads; nature will require it of us, and we must all of us some day taste of the same sauce: let her passe then, and the Lord pre∣serve the Survivors; for I must now cast a∣bout how to get another wife. But I will

tell you what you shall do, (said he) to the Midwives in France called wise women (Where be the good folks? I cannot see them,) go you to my wives interrement, and I will the while rock my sonne: for I finde my self somewhat altered and distempered, and should otherwayes be in danger of falling sick: but drink one good draught first, you will be the better for it; and beleeeve me upon mine honour, they at his request went to her burial and funeral obsequies: in the mean while, poor Gargantua staying at home, and willing to have somewhat in remem∣brance of her to be engraven upon her tomb, made this Epitaph in the manner as follow∣eth.

Dead is the noble Badebec, Who had a face like a Rebeck; A Spanish body, and a belly Of Swisserland, she dy'd, I tell ye, In childe-birth: pray to God, that her He pardon wherein she did erre. Here lies her body, which did live Free from all vice, as I beleeve; And did decease at my bed-side, The yeare and day in which she dy'd.